Rever la magie
by Mowgui
Summary: What if you found out your life was but lie? What if your new found friend was but a traitor in diguise? What if of all things you fall for the enemy? What happens when destiny has caught up with you? Will you fight for your friends or for yourself?
1. Dream of Life

Synopsis: As the life altering events of last year marred the innocence that was left of Harry Potter and his friends, the Order of the Phoenix never ceased to acquire more and more supporters that had unfathomable hate towards the Dark Lord. New rivalries arise at the comeback of one highly idolized character and a strange creature with a heart of gold. Love will blossom amidst all the chaos and bring together an uncanny friendship between Gryffindor and Slytherin. Lives change dramatically as fate's hands move them like pieces on a chessboard. Pls. R/R, flames expected and accepted!  
  
--Disclaimer- Do I really have to? It's understandable that J.K Rowling would rather write the next book than dwell on fan fictions!  
  
Chapter One  
  
Summer 2003 in the busy streets of London.  
  
'Arista...Now hurry up dear, we haven't got all day!' A thin lady with striking red hair called on Arista who was juggling half-a dozen shopping bags on both hands.  
  
'I don't think I can manage to walk 5 mi/hr carrying this entire load and with you nagging on me every five minutes! Do you mind helping me out?' Arista was at the middle of the road while hauling the packages with great difficulty. Her dark brunette hair swept across her face with a sudden gust of the wind, blocking her line of sight.  
  
'They're yours aren't they? Tell me now why I should be bothered by your luggage? You practically drained my bank account with all these, and you expect me to be kind? Yes I do mind!'  
  
'Oh excuse me!' Looking slightly appalled at her aunt's insensitivity. Although it was true that she almost finished off both their savings account, it was still a matter of civility that her aunt should show pity on her 'suffering' form. 'I believe some ten bags and a couple of shoes here do belong to you, Red ' Growing without her parents, she was accustomed to call her aunt 'Red' and her balding uncle 'Bub', a common fashion in teens. '.and I won't be reluctant in throwing it down the ditch!' The good natured ness of her family was one thing that kept her sane in life, although occasional tantrums such as this, did tip them to her side once in a while; apparently after being abandoned as a baby 15 years ago, teen age angst finally found its way to her system. She was just too good of an actress to be able to keep up her façade.  
  
'Oh alright, I'll take those! I wouldn't mind if you ditch my stuff, just so you stop blabbering alright?'  
  
'You just couldn't admit you lost to me!' A sinister smile crossed her face. They constantly bickered with one another, but not the irritating sort of argument, it was more than often a battle of wits and of course tongues; nothing more but a friendly chatter between two very close relatives.  
  
But this had to end; Sooner than everyone would have liked.  
  
'Now, now girls! We can't have you messing up the rest of a wonderful work- free-sun-bathed-shopping-day! There are loads to do and thousands of shops to invade.now come along I'll carry those for you.'  
  
Pierre was Arista's uncle who had treated her as his own child in the absence of her parents. He was a tall man in his mid 40's, slightly balding in the upper part of his forehead. He hastily reached for the packages, weary of this sort of squabble; he gladly lifted them of their loads, unaware that he was being lured to do so the whole time.  
  
Another thing that made life so much easier and amusing is how both ladies manage to trick any one of the opposite sex into deliberately ending the argument by eliminating the root of it. Funny how Bub falls for it all the time, considering he is a lawyer himself, an uncanny characteristic which made the girls think that he was just kindly tolerating their spoiled nature.  
  
She sniggered thoughtfully and dragged them inside Randal's Books and Schooling equipment finally giving the start of school a moment of thought. 'Come on you two.I've got to furnish my self with new books!' Her austere turquoise blue eyes beamed at the sight of a new luxury read, set upon a small pedestal by the window. 'And a few magazines won't hurt I suppose.' She murmured to herself more than to anyone else.  
  
It was a blessed Saturday afternoon in the end of summer, the only time of the week where everyone from office workers to pre-schoolers could cherish the beauty of living and bask in the warm sun; most of the time out on parks and beaches and for other people malls. This one Saturday afternoon was special to the family, Arista's in particular, for it was the only time they could fully enjoy the company of each other with no work to interrupt them. People were just so stirred up in work that they often forget how to have fun; luckily an occasional sale would interest shopholics like the Azimuths.  
  
--**--  
  
The rest of summer went by fast, leaving the people (mostly comprised of the student body) dreading the start of school. Some were anxious to see old friends and most especially their crushes, but Arista was neither excited nor infuriated with the end of the summer holidays, in fact she thought nothing of It, as she well knew that attending school served as a foundation for every child, and it is necessary if you have an ambition. Thirst for the knowledge and a cunning capability to weasel yourself up there, are characteristics that help greatly in your quest for greatness. School always meant studies, no friends no love interests. Little did she know, such characteristics that identify her as smug and astute would lead to an inevitable choice between power and life. Certainly ambition is not achieved without sacrifice. A question is raised: Will the sacrifice be greater than the cause?  
  
Arista sat upright on her bad, back facing the door of her room. She was, as expected, engrossed in a muggle magazine that discussed teen age discomforts and how people get through them. While other students crammed at the last minute for their home works, Arista quietly mused herself with nonsense, being completely prepared a few days before, she decided to spend what's left of the holidays as enjoyable as possible.  
  
The sky was tuning into a violent purple, little gold lights started to emit from the lampposts. The last few rays of sunlight ebbed from her window, and she wrapped herself up in her quilt as the cold seeped trough the open window room. There was a silent knock on her bedroom door.  
  
'Arista dear, your uncle and I are leaving now. I left dinner in the freezer for you; you could just toss it in the microwave when you've decided not to starve.' She gave the young girl a small smile, that lit her face up more than any make up would do. 'You take care of yourself.be good!'  
  
'Yes Red.I will.you best hurry now or you'll be late!' She wore the same smile, but a definite shadow of something else showed in her eyes. Could be sadness, but then why? She was used to being left at home when Pierre and Mellyssa went to business meetings in the evening, but always with a nanny to keep her company. This was the first time she'll have the whole house to herself. 'Something good could come off this!' She thought.  
  
'You sure you'll be fine?' There was a pause, giving the impression that she was reluctant to even leave, but was right away interrupted by her niece's sneer.  
  
'I wouldn't pass this opportunity to have everything to my self at last! Not for anything in the world! You just best hurry back, or I might obtain full claim of your property.' Her words drawled with menace and she surreptitiously planned an all-night party. But that shadow of sadness or concern never left her. 'Just kidding! Rest assured that I will be in my best behavior!' A glint in showed in her eye.  
  
'For your sake and ours!' Neither of them could muster another word and burst into fits of giggles.  
  
'I'll show you outside then.' Getting up to her feet fast, humming enthusiastically while dragging her aunt downstairs.  
  
'Good night then and be careful, young lady.' Pierre gave his niece a peck on the cheek as he went out the door and into the driveway. 'Of course I will, dear sir!' She retorted half shouting due to their distance.  
  
'We'll be back before you know it! Keep your head up!' Mellyssa strolled out the door jangling her car keys in her palm. Aware of the outstretched neck of the young brunette she grinned and turned her heel to give her a kiss. 'Good night!'  
  
As the couple pulled off the drive way into the cold starlit night, Mellyssa gave a loud honk and Pierre bellowed a last 'We love you!' before disappearing all together. It was no peculiar occurrence, only that Arista herself, in the years that she had spent with this family as their own daughter, had never once heard Pierre or Bub as we know it mention anything about love, let alone yell it in the stillness of the light. It was odd, but came with surprising warmth.  
  
--**--  
  
They promised to come home at 2:00am at the latest, to at least see her off before she went to Canada to finish her studies. It was a dream they all shared, and it was barely a step away. But they never came home.  
  
Two o'clock.  
  
Two forty-five.  
  
Three fifteen.  
  
Three thirty.  
  
Four o'clock.  
  
She was certainly going to miss her flight now that it was so late. The airport was an hour drive from their house, and her flight was at 5:30am. She hoped against hope that boarding would be swift later on. But there were more pressing matters at hand. Where were they? Certainly they wouldn't miss this last chance to see her. She'll be in a boarding school and have little contact with them. Rather impatient at the irresponsibility of her guardians, she decided to plop down the sofa and wait for a several minutes while watching the television.  
  
'A 5 star hotel blew up around 9:00 last night. As renowned bomber Zama-lad Bin took interest in bombing "The Estates", a building right beside the American embassy in London, 1, 050 people were found dead and 500 injured. Some 50 people lay unidentified at the moment. We advise the citizens to stay calm and alert..' The rest of the news went on with out Arista taking in any bit of it. She now stood, frozen to a spot, glaring at the television as if it would suddenly laugh and claim to be only joking. But it could never happen, not even if she wished it so much to be a joke. She knew perfectly well what had transpired was insufferable and the lack of action by the officials made her want to bomb them her selves. 'Pierre Shaw, Mellyssa Shaw, Adrian Salvo.' It was there, they were identified as one of the fatalities, and it sickened her.  
  
Everything made less sense, now that she knew what had become of the life she had cherished so. It was gone. The good-byes, the 'I love you's', and the shadow that could not be seen but rather felt, all of it fitted only one explanation. Those were signs, but she never believed in predicting the future, so mere manifestations should have not bothered her at the least.  
  
The prospect of getting on a plane and studying in Canada was the last thing that was on her mind. There was no place for that now. There was no place for anything now. She felt the numb slowly creep up her body and wrap itself around her heart, and the minutes that she spent gaping at the TV seemed as endless as eternity. Surely time couldn't pass by that fast, unlike in so many books that she has read. They all indicated a person to be lost in a trance, dazed by the sudden revelation to them of love, but it was not that kind of revelation that met her. This one was more unnerving than mesmerizing, painfully concrete than sweetly surreal. Trapped in such a moment, one would have chosen to end eternity and forget.  
  
At last she managed to pull herself together, the complete lack of emotion in her face despite the painful event was disturbing, but it was all probably due to the numbness. She picked up the remote, flipped from channel to channel; apparently the recent bombing was the talk of the town and the mad bomber's face graced every news flash. This confirmed that she had not been having a nightmare which made her feel even sicker. All she could think about was being by their side at those times. Acceptance would come easier if she had witnessed it all, or at least to have been there to see them one last time, what was better is that if she had died with them, at least there would be no more pain to hold her down. Now it hurt, as everything slowly dawned on her. She was alone in the world, an orphan, and a person with no future whatsoever. She might have had everything, money, knowledge, friends, but there was no life in that, what she needed was love; the love only her parents could give. Still her face remained blank as a tear drop fell from her eye when she blinked. That was it. That was all she could do to express the overwhelming feelings she had; it was lonely not to be able to grieve, and it pierced her heart more.  
  
Finally not knowing what was to become of her life anymore, she walked briskly to the driveway of their home, past the mailbox, which had some peculiarity in it. She glanced absentmindedly sideways to find a fat feathery bird perched on top the mail box.  
  
A tawny owl sat on the mail box with it's head up high and it's right leg outstretched, where a letter was attached to it by a piece of red silk. It only appeared to have annoyed Arista than to have interested her; certainly an owl in the early morning was strange, let alone one that was bearing a letter. She glared at it and proceeded to her car, where to her surprise, sat three different owls, each of them holding up an epistle. She waved them away but all seemed determined to deliver their package before returning, Arista, hardly thinking about anything now hastily grabbed the envelope from the nearest owl, rather too strongly that the creature gave her a nasty look and attempted to bite her hand; but she had fast reflexes. Staring at the envelope, she stood still completely bemused that the letter was in fact addressed to her written in green ink, and of flowing letters. But what drew her attention was the address: to: Miss Arista Azimuth Couch by the fire Shaw manor, Greenwich London  
  
It was her very exact address just a while ago, when she learned of the grim event. This made her even more livid. She tore the envelope into half and let the wind sweep it away. Angered, she got in and drove away into the dawning day, practically oblivious of her destination. It felt better when the cold wind stung her face as she drove her little red Mercedes further and further away; her destination would be decided when the road ended, but it didn't, it continued on and on; it went on for hours, and day turned to night. She drove at 120km/ph completely lost in a line of thought. It wasn't her best intention to speed up, but she wasn't aware that she was driving; she barely knew what was happening until when the road finally ended, and her path suddenly heading straight for a cliff.  
  
'It would only take one small step on the brakes to end this.' a smile slowly crept in her face. 'But it would take less than that to speed up!' She stepped on the pedal and suddenly she was speeding to the edge, with a determined spirit. 'It's for the best.this will end all pains.I just need to get away!' Tears were flowing from her eyes, half from the sting of the wind and the other half from fear and loneliness.  
  
'But wouldn't committing suicide end all chances of life? Imagine all the things I could share with everyone, lost because of a foolish decision. But there is certainly no chance of living a normal life after this, not a chance!' she thought, a part of her debated on the sensibility of her decision to kill herself.  
  
'If I do it, then I would be running away, wouldn't I? And running is the least logical thing to do when it comes to facing problems. I should fight, turn the tables around, even the odds, I stand a chance, even if it's against the whole world' it was not her nature to give up on anything or anyone, and she was not going to start with herself! A fight is something that made her blood burn and it motivated every cell in her body to fight back. Running away is for cowards and she isn't one.  
  
But she wasn't fast enough this time. Wheels screeched as she stepped hard on the brakes, but it was too late. The car reeled onwards sending the car tumbling a hundred and eighty degrees and spun on its side by the passenger seat, eventually hitting a nearby lamppost and diving off the cliff.  
  
--**--  
  
The next few minutes were a complete mystery to her as the car fell of the edge and into the sea. The car plunged deeper and deeper into the see, but when it almost hit the bottom a strange light shot out from the sea floor and charged towards the car, rearing it upwards until it gave a huge wave of energy, that the car flew to the shore and landed on all four wheels, the driver still alive.  
  
A huge man, about four times the size and height of an ordinary human being tore the door at the driver's seat and unbuckled Arista's seat belt, and then proceeded in dragging her into the open air. Another man far older than the other approached Arista's still form, then reaching out from his pocket a wand. His silver white hair glistened mysteriously in the moonlight, and his blue eyes peered at the young lady through half-moon spectacles. He muttered something in what seemed like Latin, and Arista jerked awake.  
  
'My apologies young Azimuth, for coming later than expected.' The older man said in a calm voice, and it reminded her of the soft warmth the sun gave you in a fair day, it was soothing and was in accord with the saddened yet hopeful expression of his eyes.  
  
'Who.who are you.' she managed to choke out some words that were hardly audible in contrast to the splashing of water onto rock. Her face was pale, cold to the touch, but it was opposite from what she was feeling now. Relief was above all feelings.  
  
'I am Professor Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of witchcraft and wizardry. And this is Rubeus Hagrid, keeper of the keys and grounds at Hogwarts.'  
  
'We've come 'er to 'escue ya Arista! Bring ya back to Hogwarts, were ya belong!' The enormous fellow bellowed, breaking the silence of the night.  
  
'Re.rescue me sir? Witchcraft.Hogwarts...I'm sorry but I don't know what you're talking about.'  
  
'Magic Arista, come now and we shall take you home.'  
  
'I.I have no home.' realizing it was foolish to relate your life to a complete stranger, but they knew who she was, then they might not be strangers after all. And besides, she did not dare think of her home, the cozy but now empty manor up the hills; she did not want to be reminded of anything that had to do with the tradgedy.  
  
'Oh but you have a home. The question is do you wish to return to it? See, we can't force you to come with us, it is entirely up to you.' The older man seemed aware of her qualms, and with the question afoot and the answer to it leaning in favor of them, his eyes glinted with delight.  
  
'You're taking me away from here?'  
  
'Unless ye'd rather stay 'ocourse!' Hagrid said.  
  
A slight pause and the serenity of the place seemed to calm her heart, allowing it to decide rationally. 'I'd like to come with you, er, Professor!' And she was certain that choosing a new life away from all the pain was just what she had ached for hours ago, and it was the chance she was looking for.  
  
A moment later Dumbledore procured a small twig from the shore, whispered an incantation and instructed her on what to do. A second after that, they were swimming in a swirl of colors that was mildly nauseating; Arista tried to grab hold of something but failed, instead she obtained a small bruise as she hit an unknown object. They had landed softly, though she expected to hit head first on the hard ground, their feet touching the carpeted floor of Dumbledore's office.  
  
--**--**--**--  
  
A/N:  
  
Wow! This is my first time to actually post a fic. on the net, and I do hope that you bare with the grammatical errors and such present here!!! So I give you the lengthy 1st chapter.It's quite boring, and I expect and accept FLAMES!!!! Do review this fic.it will be the only source of inspiration for loveless writers like me!!! haha!!!  
  
By the way, this is a joint fic, and each chapter is written by a different writer, so I assure you definite improvement in the next chapters, as they are written by writers far better than me!  
  
**Special thanks to the genius writer of The day Dark Overcame, Jesuies de Sole, and Judas Kiss! Your work has inspired me to post this!  
  
**And also to the author of Fire and Ice and Darkness and Light. I couldn't have typed all this without reading your fic. simultaneously! 


	2. Life springs eternal

Disclaimer: Still not my mine. --**--  
  
Chapter two  
  
It took her time to take in what had transpired, and at the moment that they had arrived at Dumbledore's office, everything seemed like a turbulent mass of thought. Like the one you have when you are shook awake in the middle of the night because of a terrible dream, then you find yourself thinking what it was but couldn't get quite close to the answer. It was almost like someone had had your memory juggled up, but it wasn't a dream, it was for Arista an aftershock, for having to leave her previous life and enter a new one with just touching a piece of wood.  
  
It was rather amusing how life unfolded a seemingly long and paved path right after it has closed one. But somehow, not everyone can leave for the new path without hesitation and Arista was taking chances with hastily deciding her future.  
  
But she was entitled to it, wasn't she? She once promised herself that she'd make her own rules, make her own limits and in a way make her own destiny. It all went well until destiny decided to bend the rules and the course of the game. Now she was forced to comply with the demands of life, but she vowed to never give up. She will win this game, no matter what the cost!  
  
She was now staring at the magnificence of the headmaster's office. Not in a million years would you see the likes of this in a muggle principal's office. Her eyes rested from one item to another, a large mahogany desk stood in the middle of the room, where silver ornaments of different sizes and shapes were placed. Her eyes scanned the rest of the room, coming upon an assortment of objects: shelves containing orbs or vials of different variety instead of books, a small table where a stone basin was set, a large globe that seemed like it levitated from the ground rather than being set on it, was found in the middle of the room, but what caught her attention was the constantly moving portraits of old men and women. She stood gaping at the inhabitants of the portraits, as they hopped from one frame to another conversing, rather ecstatically, about something. Though upon noticing Dumbledore's presence, their discussion immediately subsided and the residents of the portraits each gave the headmaster a nod, for some a wink and others a polite curtsy or a slight bow, and then proceeded once again with their chat.  
  
It was very hard to take it all in, but it was so amusing to Arista that she couldn't help but exclaim, 'Wicked!'  
  
'Professor.wha---- portraits? Amazing!" Her eyes were all dreamy, like a child's upon receiving ice cream on a hot day. It was all new to her, but still all so familiar.  
  
'Ahh.I see you have appreciation for art here in the wizarding world! Very well, I might as well let you in on a little secret.' He lowered his voice to a mere whisper, but his jolly and all knowing tone remained audible. 'The portraits in this world are not stationary, they become bored once and a while!' He chuckled slightly.  
  
'Right.still it is cool yet kind of freaky.I mean, if they can move around and talk, then they can spy on you, gossip about your best kept secrets.' She shivered slightly at the thought, but Dumbledore reassured her that nothing of that sort has ever happened or will ever happen at Hogwarts, though she was quite sure it was one way of catching misbehaving students. Clever and simple, and she admired it so much that she almost forgot where she was and why she was there. She was about to ask Dumbledore the question that popped in her mind just moments ago, when she found him standing by the fire and talking to.a head!  
  
She gave a loud shriek that sent the residents of the portraits to run for cover or clamp their ears to block the deafening sound. Hagrid took hold of a sleeve of her shirt and tried to shake her calm, but it was more like a shove than a comforting tap, and it caused her to wail even louder.  
  
The head glared at her, as if insulted at her sudden outburst. The door burst open, and a skinny figure of a woman entered the room. She wore, surprisingly enough, a skimpy blue tank top and faded jeans paired with electric blue flip flops. Her hair was dyed in deep purple and it spiked a few inches above her scalp. Her expression was a mixture of concern, disbelief, and a wild fascination, but it all disappeared and was changed to shock upon hearing the shreik. She had several frantic attempts to tone down the deafening sound by covering her ears, but it was no good. Finally she crossed the room, reached for Arista, and clamped her hand on Arista's mouth, muttering something about not letting her come with them.  
  
'Professor, what's going on?' she asked while panting. 'Stop wiggling!' Dumbledore only stared calmly at the two ladies as the older woman struggled to calm Arista.  
  
'Let her go, Tonks. She's had enough for one day, and it is understandable that she be shocked at what she saw. Anyone without a background of magic would have.' He smiled pleasantly at them, something about his smile made Arista give up on screaming and made her calm enough for Tonks to let her go.  
  
'Sorry about that! I was just terrified when I heard screaming! I was a floor below and I rushed right away, only to find you screaming your head off.' And it was evident that she had been running, and that she had probably tripped somewhere because her elbows were grazed badly.  
  
'Quite alright. You best take care of Miss Azimuth here, as I will have to attend to some ministry business.' He paused as he gave a sideways glance to the head in the fire place, and then turned his attention to Arista. 'Forgive me Arista, that I haven't been much of a company, but don't worry we'll be seeing each other quite often over the remaining weeks of the summer holidays. What is important now is that you are here with us, safe.'  
  
She wasn't sure what he meant by his last sentence, but it was true that she felt safe and at home in this new place, wherever she was, but safe from what? Still questions continued to plague her mind, and when Tonks escorted her to an apparently large guest room, she couldn't force herself to hold back till tomorrow.  
  
'Erm.Tonks? It is Tonks right?'  
  
'Yes! That's me! What is it? Oh sorry for a while ago, didn't mean to be rude and all!"  
  
'Oh no! That's not a problem; it is just rather shocking you see.Well I was meaning to ask you.' But she was cut off when the door to her room was opened, and she got a glimpse of its splendor. A four poster bed that had scarlet draping all over, stood adjacent to the wall which had golden entrails, extending far off into the next rooms, which she had suspected as being the bathroom and a walk in closet. There was a small desk--- just enough for doing homework on-placed diagonally by the crackling fire in the equally splendid fireplace. It was a room fit for a Queen, and suddenly Arista felt as important as one, but waved away the thought as soon as it had come.  
  
She was so fascinated with her new surroundings that she barely noticed Tonks tapping her by the shoulder, whispering a good night and closing the door behind her until it was too late. She immediately ran out the room into the deserted corridor, to run after Tonks, mentally cursing her self for forgetting her question because of a stupid room. But to no avail, she went back to her room, locked it and preposterously rolled over the carpeted floor, probably too tired to lift a finger.  
  
As she lay there, her body felt extremely heavy, and her eye lids felt like they weighed a ton. Images of earlier events loomed over her, but they were mere puzzle pieces to a bigger picture and it didn't make much sense,so Arista found no urge to mull over them. It wasn't that she had no concern for everything, she was enraged with the person responsible for all this, but she was aware of her powerlessness and the idea of it made her want to learn, whatever there was to learn there. She was going to prove herself better than anyone and someday destroy the evil that made her life turn sour. But now, she saw no reason to once again loose control of her good judgment and breakdown, when clearly she couldn't have done anything in the first place. But she was going to do something about it sooner or later. Now all she needed was a dreamless sleep.  
  
--**--  
  
It was the end of July when she held Dumbledore's hand for the first time and was transported to the wizarding world leaving behind everything that was her life. A month passed, and she was well edified with the basic spells and charms that took the students years of studying. It was not an easy task. Every day she spent mornings practicing Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall who was slightly disgruntled at her lack of skill in that area. She had once barely managed to transfigure a fruit bat into a handbag when it sprouted wings and broke through the glass window.  
  
Her classes after lunch switched from Charms to Potions to History of magic, which to her opinion was a subject not worth spending precious time with. But Dumbledore insisted on her taking up professor Binn's lessons with a promise that it'll be of some use to her someday, so she half- heartedly complied with his wishes, in honor of what he has done for her. But what she looked forward to everyday was Defense against the Dark Arts. It fascinated her so well, even if her professor was a one eyed, marred faced, grubby looking old man named Mad-eye Moody. She figured it was best to take note of every single detail Moody gave her, as she was sure, it'll be the one thing that would help her greatly in reaching her goal.  
  
One night, a little after supper, professor Dumbledore beckoned her to come with him to his office. There, she was informed that she'll be taking Occlumency lessons from Snape starting the very next evening. Just as she thought she'd be free from the greasy hair and piercing black eyes, she was submitted to four hours of mental torture. Dumbledore made clear the importance of studying such skill, and that she must take it seriously no matter how hard it would get.  
  
'Very grave things had happened to people who ignored its importance to them. Do NOT commit the same mistake.' Words like these would cloud even the clearest minds, for it brought dread to the person as well as excitement. Which of the two is more appealing, one could only guess.  
  
Start of term was only a day away and spirits were rising inside Hogwarts as the mood tensed somewhere beyond the Forbidden forest.  
  
--**-- A/N: I managed to finish revising our first chapter, and decided that it was better to separate it into two. Don't worry the next chapter is written by none other than Michiko-Sakura, another gifted writer here in fanfiction.net!  
  
*Special thanks to Mya_14, who despite being a critic and a meticulous writer herself, gave way to a beginner like me appreciated the work!!! You're the best dude!!!  
  
*Still thanks for all those ppl. Who read but do not review! I just do hope you'd put into writing your views about the story instead of relating it to me verbally! Hehe!!!  
  
*Next chapter happens simultaneously with the first chapter, but only focuses on the last week of summer vacation. 


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